


Chiraptophilia

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, Illnesses, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Missions Gone Wrong, caring jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: The Delmaran medical facility had been glossy-slick and seductive: bright lights and humming machinery that had Leonard smiling as he tried to take it all in.  When the doctor went missing Jim assumed they’d taken him for his medical knowledge.  Now, though, he wasn’t so sure.





	1. Chapter 1

“Bones?” 

The name came out as an urgent whisper, but the doctor didn’t move from where he was huddled against the far wall of the cell. Peering through the bars in the dim light, Jim couldn’t tell if Leonard was even awake; there was an exhausted slump to the older man’s shoulders and his breaths were soft and shallow. Real sleep, or something worse? The fear that had abated slightly at the sight of the other man surged back and a rasp of emotion crept into his voice, “We’ll get you out soon Bones, just hang tight.” Jim glanced down at where Hendorff was taking a cutting tool to the metal bars, as if daring the lieutenant to make a liar out of him. It was only a few minutes until the bars yielded, but despite a constant stream of chatter from Jim, Leonard hadn’t moved.

Quickly crossing the cell, Jim crouched and placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder, “Bones?” The reaction was immediate, and not at all what he had expected: Leonard’s fist flung out, catching Jim sharpy in the general vicinity of his jaw before the older man shuffled frantically backwards along the wall, quickly putting as much space between them as he could until backed into a corner. “Holy shit,” holding a hand to his throbbing face, Jim blinked involuntary tears out of his eyes and met Hendorff’s equally surprised gaze. “What the fuck, Bones?” Leonard’s face was upturned, and in the low light Jim could see his gaze flitting around the cell without settling. Something clenched deep in the captain’s belly and he asked, more softly, “Bones?”

The Delmaran medical facility had been glossy-slick and seductive: bright lights and humming machinery that had Leonard smiling as he tried to take it all in. When the doctor had gone missing forty-eight hours before, Jim assumed they’d taken him for his medical knowledge. The way Leonard’s gaze was skittering over him without settling suggested something else entirely


	2. Chapter 2

They’d grabbed him when his guard was down: sudden footsteps from behind, a shock of pain in his neck, something over his face and then a dim awareness of hitting the floor before whatever they’d drugged him with took full effect with a swirl of nausea and darkness.

Memories after that were a jumble: waking tied down, punctures to the inside of his elbow as they injected him with god-knows-what, burning in his veins, searing white light in his eyes…

The sensations repeated.

They were treating him like a goddamn lab animal.

Leonard screamed.

It didn’t stop.

 

**********

 

Cold.

It was pitch black; Leonard carefully drew his knees up and shifted to sit on what felt like a polished stone floor. Muscles cramped painfully and bile crawled up his throat. Jim was coming, he told himself. Jim was coming. He _always_ came.

The back of his neck prickled, but it was a full minute before he realized why: it was quiet. Too quiet. 

Leonard snapped his fingers with growing trepidation, but there was no answering sound no matter how sharply his fingers seemed to slap his palm. Tried to speak, but couldn’t hear his own voice outside the confines of his head.

Something that would have been a sob escaped his mouth, because he suddenly doubted it was pitch black in the room as well. Casting his hands out, Leonard followed the floor until he encountered a wall of the same smooth, cool surface. He should follow the it; try to map out the space that he was in, but the memory of tight straps and grabbing hands and burning drugs made him start to shake all over. Willing himself to take even breaths as he tried to swallow down rising panic, Leonard turned to settle with his back against the wall, knees up in a defensive posture that felt far too vulnerable. Come on, Jim. _Please_.


	3. Chapter 3

“Captain—” 

Jim shook his head, instinctively knowing what Hendorff was offering. While they would certainly be able to physically subdue Leonard, Jim couldn’t bring himself to do that. They had to act quickly, though… Something obvious. Something that wouldn’t be simply cast aside…

Ignoring his security officer’s raised eyebrow, Jim bent over and began tugging off his right boot. Once free, he carefully hefted it in his hand to gauge the weight and visually measured the distance. Holding his breath, he gently tossed the boot towards the other man.

It arced through the air and landed a meter on front of Leonard’s feet, then bounced into his shins. Leonard flinched, right hand flinging out in what would have been a solid punch if Jim had been anywhere in range. For a moment Jim thought Leonard was going to kick the boot away and he’d have to try again, but instead the older man pressed himself more tightly into the corner before gingerly reaching out for what had struck him.

Holding his breath, Jim watched as fear and anger on Leonard’s face blurred into confusion. “Come on, Bones...” _You can figure this out_.

Leonard’s fingertips roved over the article, testing the texture and size, the arrangement of the fastenings. The Delmarans had taken his own boots, but he nonetheless pressed his bare foot against the sole, as if measuring the length. Even, with a grimace of distaste visible even in the low light, pressing his nose to the opening and inhaling. He pressed his foot against the sole again, carefully measuring the space with his fingers. The extra inch of height Leonard had over Jim was reflected in a difference in their shoe sizes— something both men knew from an unfortunate mix-up with their cold weather gear during third year survival training.

Looking up with those sightless eyes, Leonard’s throat worked like he might be trying to say something, but nothing was audible and Jim felt that spark of worry in his chest kindle even brighter. Head dipping back down towards the boot for a moment, Leonard ran his hands over its surface again before setting it down, moving into a posture that left him ready to spring if needed, and extended a hand in the air.

It was the signal Jim was waiting for. With a glance to Hendorff that said, _stay back_ , he crouched, then crawled forwards towards the other man. Stopping just out of reach of the trembling fingertips, Jim contemplated reaching out with his own hand before instead carefully moving his face until Leonard’s fingers gently brushed the side of his cheek.

Leonard snatched his hand back, but didn’t strike out. Jim froze, waiting… A moment later and Leonard reached out again, seeking with his fingers until he brushed against skin. Jim held himself still in a pose of supplication as Leonard’s fingers traced the line of his sideburn, cupped his chin, testing the length of his hair then ran a thumb over one eyebrow.

Leonard’s lips moved in a word that was unmistakably, _Jim_. 

Jim’s hand came up quickly, covering Leonard’s with his own and nodding in a gesture that he hoped was clear. The other man shuddered and Jim slid forward quickly to sit beside his friend, their sides pressed tightly together. Leonard seemed to be both cringing away from the touch and aching to lean into Jim’s side. Whatever they’d done to him… Jim swallowed down those thoughts in favor of focusing on the present. Gently taking back the boot, he worked it onto his foot then carefully took Leonard’s left arm in his right.

Carefully pulling them both to their feet, Jim could feel that Leonard needed his support to stand. Fuck. It was a short walk to the beam out site, but they needed to move quickly before they were caught. He’d need help. “Hendorff…”

The lieutenant moved with unexpected understanding: slowly crossing the cell then reaching out to gently tap Leonard’s right shoulder. The doctor flinched, but seemed to understand as after a moment he forced himself to raise a trembling hand. Hendorff raised his own, angling so that the doctor’s fingertips brushed against the insignia braids at his wrist. After a moment of tracing them, Leonard gave a nod of acquiescence and allowed Hendorff to support his other side.

As they started to move together, Jim was surprised when Leonard shifted to press his nose tightly to the side of the captain’s neck. A gust of air as the man inhaled then exhaled deeply, quick and ragged. _O-kay_. Hendorff was moving towards the hole in the bars so Jim quickly matched his pace, shuffling them along the corridors of the underground facility until they eventually managed to exit through the maintenance hatch. His comm chirped as soon as they had a clear line of sight to the sky and Jim breathed a sigh of relief, awkwardly fumbling for the device with his free hand. “Kirk here. We’ve got him. Scotty: can you do a site-to-site to med bay?”

“Aye, sir.”

It wasn’t strictly site-to-site, as they briefly rematerialized on the transporter pad before Scotty initiated a second cycle to place them in the medical bay. When the sparks faded from his vision Jim found M’Benga and Chapel reaching out to help. 

Hendorff moved faster than Jim would have expected, quickly thrusting an arm in the way of the medical personnel with an urgent, “Don’t!”

Stopping short, M’Benga glanced from his direct superior to Jim: “Captain?”

“They’ve done something to him.” Jim shifted to better support Leonard on his own, starting to steer him towards a biobed. “He can’t see or hear. I don’t think he can speak either.” They reached the biobed and Jim carefully encouraged Leonard to feel its texture, but it seemed like the other man already knew where they were as he moved to pull himself up onto the bed without pausing.

Sharing a concerned glance with his captain, M’Benga powered on the bed’s diagnostics and motioned for Chapel to help as well. Hendorff shifted to catch his captain’s attention and asked, “Would you like me to report to Commander Spock?”

_Reporting,_ Jim could feel a headache of his own coming on. “Yes,” dragging his attention away from the biobed, Jim realized that would at least allow him to stay in the med bay while they tried to figure out what was going on. “Please. Tell him what’s happened and that I’ll be down here.”

A crash and clatter of medical devices hitting the floor and Jim quickly turned to find Chapel jumping backwards, a red blush staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I—,” she held up a scanner, helplessly, “I was just trying to take some more detailed readings and took hold of his arm.”

Leonard was slumped against the head of the bed, legs drawn up defensively despite something wholly defeated in his posture. Jim stepped forward, motioning for the nurse to stay back as he did so. Remembering Hendorff’s approach, he gently tapped Leonard’s shoulder to get his attention, wincing at the resultant flinch. 

A moment, and then Leonard uncurled one arm from around his knees, reaching out blindly until Jim offered his sleeve. Instead of simply releasing his hold once he’d felt the command braid, Leonard took the captain’s hand and tugged him towards the head of the bed, leaning closer as if seeking secondary confirmation. 

He can _smell_ , Jim realized, remembering the hot breath on his neck. Obligingly, he bent down so the line of his collar was near Leonard’s face, where the particular scent from his shower and shave must cling to his skin. And it was particular: Jim didn’t finish with the standard ‘fleet issue soap. One good memory from childhood had been his Grandpa Tiberius, and he’d appropriated the woodsy aftershave favored by Kirk men as soon as he’d been old enough to need a razor. Sure enough, Leonard took a deep breath, then seemed to relax. 

Leonard’s lips and throat worked again, soundlessly but for a gust of air. Stomach sinking, Jim reached out and gently touched his fingertips to the other man’s lips, then drew a line across his throat. 

Ducking his head, then nodding, Leonard confirmed he understood what Jim was trying to convey. After a moment, he shifted to lean into Jim’s side even as he started to fight with his uniform. A few seconds later and he’d managed to pull off his blue top and tugged at the black undershirt until he revealed a series of large, inflamed puncture marks up the inside of his left arm, ending in what must have been a large bore line in the crook of his elbow.

“Dammit.” Jim’s gaze was yanked up from the red flesh by M’Benga’s unexpected curse. The younger doctor was normally wholly unflappable: the perfect complement to Leonard’s bursts of sarcasm and excitement; pulling out a hand scanner, he ran it over Leonard’s arm and then up to his chest and head.

Aware Leonard’s shoulder was still touching his side, Jim softly asked, “Can you get readings with me so close?”

“I can do prelims, but I’ll need space for a more sensitive scan; and I need to get him into the imaging unit.”

“Okay,” Jim shifted to stand more comfortably against the side of the biobed, wishing there was more he could do to ease the residual tension still thrumming in Leonard’s frame. “I’ll stay; we’ll be fine.” At the time, he’d believed that.

**********

Disengaging the sonics in favor of the luxury of real water, Jim held his face under the hot stream. It was a total clusterfuck, and he was _not_ looking forward to reporting to Starfleet Command. The admiralty had been keen for a smooth diplomatic mission— a modest strategic alliance with the far-flung starsystem. Instead… Jim rolled his shoulders and winced at the tension he was carrying. Instead, they were still trying to figure out how far up the leadership the plan to kidnap Bones actually went. For their part, the Delmaran government had closed ranks; even had the gall to suggest that perhaps Bones had simply wandered off and been injured.

The man unconscious in the med bay proved that to be a lie, and as such was a diplomatic liability. An attempt at more invasive diagnostics and some preliminary hyposprays had resulted in a full blown panic attack that only ended when M’Benga and Jim used their combined weight to suppress Leonard’s thrashing long enough for Chapel to hit him with a sedative. Put that on the list of things Jim _never fucking wanted to have to do ever again_.

Spock had somehow convinced the admiralty that given the situation the Delmaran negotiations would be better handled by an impartial diplomatic team; the Enterprise was to continue to another system for a straightforward nebula mapping mission. Stellar Cartography was thrilled, but for everyone else it would largely be downtime. Jim had promptly signed himself off active bridge duty until further notice.

Slapping the controls to turn off the shower, Jim stepped out of the cubicle and absently towelled his hair. Steam fogged the edges of the mirror despite the recyclers trying to clear the air; he’d run the water as hot as the safety protocols would allow. Tidying his hair with his fingers, Jim contemplated his jawline: he didn’t really need to shave again; he’d applied a growth suppressor that morning, but remembering Bones’ reaction earlier he reached for the aftershave and liberally slapped some on his face and neck. 

It had taken forty hours to find Bones and Jim _ached_ to crawl into his bed. Instead, he pulled on a fresh uniform and made his way to the med bay.


	4. Chapter 4

Drifting, the line between asleep and awake was almost imperceptible: no sense of light beyond his eyelids, no ambient noise. The temperature was a ship standard 20.2 degrees, the biobed familiar as a dream underneath his back. Leonard _thought_ he was awake… 

… but he wasn’t sure. It was disconcerting; at least he could recognize the med bay without all his senses. The un-smell of sterilized air with a hint of antiseptic was unmistakable. Taking his own skin between his fingers, Leonard pinched sharply with his nails and the little shock of pain was exactly as he’d expect. Awake then. The texture was familiar under his fingertips so he carefully probed further, sliding closer to what must be the edge of the biobed: his right hand skated over the edge, his left encountered… Leonard froze, heart thudding, then gave his fingers a cautiously experimental twitch… hair?

Rubbing the strands gently between his fingers confirmed that, yes, there was human hair on his biobed. The length was plausibly familiar as well. He followed the hair to find the curve of an ear, then smooth skin with the faint rasp of a patch not quite caught properly by the razer. The head didn’t move at his probing, so Leonard carefully pulled back his hand long enough to roll over onto his side and shuffle slightly down the bed.

Curling towards where he’d encountered the other person, Leonard inhaled and was met by a familiar twist of cedar, vetiver, and something else he couldn’t name. _Jim_. From the awkward positioning, the younger man must have started out sitting by the head of the bed, then slumped forwards and sideways. Jim was clearly deeply asleep, unstirring as Leonard’s fingers flitted down over his shoulder then back to the nape of his neck.

Leonard knew he should take his hand back or Jim was liable to wake up; not to mention that for all he knew, someone in the med bay could be observing him right then. But…

Jim’s hair was silky soft between Leonard’s fingertips: slightly longer than when he’d kept it closely cropped as a cadet. Shifting so he could rest his elbow on the biobed, Leonard let himself anchor to the reassuring presence of the other man.

 

**********

 

Jim drifted back to awareness focused on the pained pinch in his lumbar region, stiffness in his neck, and… something touching his hair? Forgetting where he could be, Jim kept himself still and cracked his eyelids to find a large pair of eyes staring right back.

“Shit!”

Jerking backwards in surprise despite himself, Jim only belatedly realized that he _recognized_ those eyes: just never from quite that close. A sharp pain in his neck and Leonard’s own flinch made Jim curse again, “Shit!” Suppressing the urge to scramble back towards the other man as quickly as he’d pulled away, Jim took a slow breath and settled back into the chair.

Leonard had moved to sit up on the bed, eyebrows drawn together in a familiar almost-scowl that Jim knew was more confusion and uncertainty than anger. His eyes were moving, flitting around the space between them; in Jim’s general direction but not quite on Jim. Glancing down, Jim saw that Leonard was gripping the biobed so hard his knuckles were white. 

Biting his lip hard enough to hurt, Jim carefully slid his hand along the bed until their fingers touched. Leonard flinched, then splayed his fingers to encourage the contact as if he’d reminded himself who was there. The older man looked so miserable Jim couldn’t help himself: he stood and moved to sit on the biobed next to Leonard, feet dangling off the edge. 

A moment, then Leonard shifted to let their shoulders press together, inhaling deeply in a way that Jim suspected meant the aftershave had been a good idea. Tentatively, he brought an arm up around the other man’s shoulders. Leonard stiffened, then took a breath and truly _relaxed_ for the first time since Jim had found him in the cell. Unsure what else he could do Jim simply sat there with his arm around his friend’s shoulders, hating what felt like utter impotence to make it better.

**********

Despite the medical team’s efforts it was Scotty who actually made some form of progress. A few hours after Jim shared a short update with the senior staff, the engineer turned up in the med bay with what looked like a fingerless glove for Leonard’s left hand.

Jim helped the engineer approach: let Leonard carefully feel his rank insignia then run a hand over the Scot’s distinctive closely cropped hair.

As Jim gently assisted Leonard in positioning the glove on his hand, Scotty explained, “There are other options, Captain, old military codes and such, but I thought this was most likely to work immediately without any special training. The sensor on the back can read letters that are traced onto it, the haptic interface on his palm will trace them onto his hand in a way he should be able to understand well enough with a little practice. It’ll be a wee bit slow, I’m afraid. Here,” he tapped on a padd and Leonard visibly jumped, presumably at the sudden sensation on his palm. “It’s doing the alphabet now.”

Leonard was frowning, obviously concentrating with the understanding that whatever was happening must be important. A handful of seconds where it felt like Jim and Scotty were collectively holding their breath, then Leonard looked up sharply, right hand extending towards Jim. When their hands tangled together, the doctor forced Jim’s palm up and traced a _J I M_ into the warm flesh.

Heart swelling, because this felt like the first thing that had gone right in days, Jim pulled Leonard’s hand up to his cheek and nodded. The answering near-grin on the other man’s face made Jim want to hug him, but he deferred as Scotty said, “Let me see if I can explain it, Captain.” 

The engineer waited until Leonard lowered his right hand, then deftly took it in his own as he explained for Jim’s benefit as well, “It’s linked to this padd.” He ran his and Leonard’s hands over the device to draw attention to it. “If you write here,” He traced a letter _A_ on the back of Leonard’s hand, “it can record it here in text.” He tapped the padd, then mimed the printed letter on its screen. A moment, then Leonard nodded his understanding. “If you speak into the padd,” He tapped his own lips with their joined hands, then the padd, then Leonard’s palm, “It will spell the message for him.” Scotty raised the padd, “Hello.”

Leonard initially frowned as the palm device activated, then his expression cleared with the distinctive, _— L L O_.

“There are a few gestures.” Scotty swiped a reverse circle on the back of Leonard’s hand and explained, “That will repeat the previous message in case he didn’t get it. I’ve got it linked to a rudimentary text program: he can access the menu with three quick taps and set it to take dictation or read a queued file to him.” Offering the padd to Jim, he suggested, “Give it a try, Captain.”

Taking the padd, Jim kept his gaze carefully focused on the older man’s face as he said, “Bones?”

A stream of emotions flickered over Leonard’s face, ending with a shaky breath and a moment with his eyes tightly closed before he nodded, jerkily.

“You look dead on your feet, Jim. Why don’t you get something to eat while I show him the other capabilities?” 

_Jim_ , not sir. Trust Scotty to go right for the jugular. Jim swallowed, hating to leave but willing to privately admit he was damn hungry, and sore… and tired. Capitulating, he slung an arm around Leonard’s shoulders for a one-armed hug, then picked up the padd, “Food. Back soon. Scotty stay.” It took a little while for the message to be conveyed, Leonard replaying the second half three times before he tilted his head towards Jim and nodded.

Walking to the mess hall Jim felt that wobbliness that came with needing to get some proper sleep, and soon. Grabbing a sandwich, he shut himself into the officer’s mess: not feeling fit for social interactions. Chewing and swallowing, numbly, Jim lost himself in blank thoughts until he surfaced to find his sandwich gone and no idea how long he’d been sitting.

Brushing crumbs off his clothes all the way back to the med bay, Jim found Leonard sitting on the biobed, sipping something through a straw and occasionally making that replay motion on the back of his hand.

M’Benga intercepted him before he could make it over, waving for Jim to join him on the other side of the room. “He’s reading his scan results.”

With a last glance to assure himself that Leonard was indeed comfortable on his own, Jim moved to stand with the other doctor, “What’s the verdict?”

M’Benga’s lips thinned, hating to be the bearer of bad news, “It’s an organic compound of some sort; very targeted delivery. They managed to get the optic nerves, auditory nerves, and paralyze his vocal cords by blocking the laryngeal branch of the vagus nerve.”

“Can you reverse it?”

The doctor visibly winced, “We’re still trying to get a handle on the pharmacokinetics. At this point: no. I’d hesitate to administer a more familiar competitive antagonist or agonist, as I’m not sure how it might interact.”

“Will it just,” Jim waved a hand, “wear off, eventually?”

“Probably.” M’Benga’s voice rose at the end of the word in uncertainty. Calling up a scan, he said, “It does appear to be releasing and being cleared, but _very_ slowly.”

“How slowly?”

For an appreciable difference? M’Benga hollowed his cheeks as he considered what to offer, “Weeks, maybe months? Provided it continues; I just can’t promise anything, Captain.”

_Months_ Jim felt the floor shift under his feet. He might be able to hold back the admiralty for a few weeks, but months, plural, and they could reassign Leonard and bring a new CMO on board. Not to mention that even _months_ wasn’t guaranteed at all.

“I’m liaising with Commander Spock and the science team while the nebula mapping is underway. With any luck we’ll be able to work out a safe way to clear the compound.” A thud from across the room caught their attention, Leonard had dropped the padd onto the biobed and buried his face against his knees. M’Benga winced, “I think he’s just come to a similar conclusion.”

Jim’s gaze swept over his friend’s posture; taking in the defensive hunch that was doing nothing to hide that the older man was utterly miserable. “Does he need to stay here?”

“It might be better if he didn’t: there’s nothing we can do at the moment, and he’s pretty well confined to the bed to make sure he doesn’t get in the way of anything urgent. He’s not in any pain, but is likely to be very tired. I wasn’t sure how he’d do alone just yet.”

“If I were to…”

The doctor managed a half smile, not even waiting for Jim to finish, “That would be ideal.”

Taking a deep breath, Jim carefully crossed the room, surprised when Leonard looked up as soon as he got within two meters. Catching sight of a blinking light on the padd, he realized Scotty must have rigged some kind of perimeter alert as well. Carefully, he gently brushed the older man’s shoulder, eliciting the expected flinch before Leonard deliberately calmed himself and reached out to feel Jim’s rank insignia. As before, Jim let himself be drawn in so Leonard could press against his side and take in his frame and scent.

When he felt his friend eventually relax, Jim lifted the padd to his mouth and asked, “My place?”

A pause and then Leonard nodded, quickly moving to climb off the biobed without releasing his grip on Jim’s arm. 

It was gamma shift so the corridors were nearly empty, but Jim nonetheless very carefully steered them both to his quarters. When the door slid shut he nudged them towards the sofa, letting Leonard pull him down as well until they were sitting closely side-by-side. A sideways glance proved Leonard looked more comfortable than in the med bay, but nonetheless lost. The older man was wearing ‘fleet issue med bay pajamas with those grippy socks that Jim swore always made his feet sweat. They’d obviously managed to coax him under the sonics at some point, as his cowlick was standing on end in a way that made him look years younger. Jim felt an unexpected wave of affection for his friend, and gave Leonard’s thigh a pat that indicated he should sit tight for a minute.

Retrieving the old academy PT sweats issued in his first year, Jim returned and gently draped the familiar garments across Leonard’s lap. 

The well-worn, soft fabric must have been immediately recognizable as Leonard ran his hands over them with what looked almost like relief playing across his face. Hell, he’d borrowed them enough over the years that the top had stretched to accommodate his slightly broader shoulders. Evidently his eagerness to cast off the med bay was strong as Leonard stood immediately and began to unselfconsciously strip.

Jim laughed, a joke on the tip of his tongue bitten back when he remembered Leonard wouldn’t hear it. 

Quickly ensconced in the familiar clothing, Leonard balled up the pajamas and tossed them in the remembered direction of Jim’s closet where the laundry collection point was hidden. When he settled back on the sofa it was with the first real smile, small though it was, since the whole mess had unfolded. A pat to the empty cushion was all the encouragement Jim needed.

Settling shoulder to shoulder, Jim propped the padd on the arm of the sofa where it would be able to pick up his voice. “M’Benga and Spock are working on it.”

Leonard sighed heavily, throat momentarily working in a no doubt sarcastic comment before he seemed to remember it wouldn’t be audible. Allowing a flicker of frustration to cross his face, he nodded, tiredly, then let his head fall back onto the cushions.

There wasn’t more to be said, and Jim was exhausted as well, so he mirrored Leonard’s posture with the back of his head sinking into the cushion. He let his eyes close, just for a moment.

It wasn’t clear who fell asleep first.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim woke to a loud clatter: startling from a deep sleep to find Leonard hunched over by the desk with padds scattered across the floor. From the open door of the bathroom, it looked like the older man had relieved himself then got off course trying to make his way back to the sofa. There was a defeated slump to the doctor’s shoulders that warned Jim approaching immediately might not be the best idea. Instead, he picked up the padd and softly said, “Bones?”

Leonard stiffened when the device activated, holding on to the edge of the table as he turned in the approximate direction of the sofa. A muscle twitched in his jaw, then he released the table and started swiping on the back of his left hand.

Jim watched as the message appeared, _I should go break things in my own damn quarters._

“I don’t mind.”

A minute for the message to be transmitted, then Leonard’s posture changed, becoming less defensive than when Jim had first startled awake. It was the opening the younger man was waiting for and he carefully crossed the room to gently touch his friend’s shoulder. As before, Leonard flinched: clearly made skittish by what the Delmarans had done to him. And as before, the initial flinch was followed by an almost visceral need to reassure himself with Jim’s presence; craning towards the other man’s side like a sunflower to the sun. Sliding an arm around broad shoulders, Jim kicked the padds out of the way and carefully led them both back to the sofa. 

When he felt it against his knees Leonard pulled away from Jim’s side and turned to sit down, sprawling across the cushions before swiping a message on the back of his hand, _Can you set up the padd to play back my med file again want to see if missed anything_.

Jim knew Leonard could call up the file himself, but it would take more time. Quickly typing until he had the correct document, he set it to play back through Scotty’s device. Leonard’s flickering gaze seemed to still as he concentrated and Jim caught himself staring at the other man’s eyes: hazel, with flecks of green that caught the overhead light. There was a little frown of effort carving a line between Leonard’s expressive eyebrows; Jim imagined gently pressing his thumb to the crease, smoothing it away along with the stress and worry.

Mentally shaking himself, because _where the fuck had that come from_? Jim moved to clear up the padds and then bit his lip, contemplating his desk chair and the empty side of the sofa. A frustrated huff of breath from the sofa that would normally have some choice words accompanying it made the decision for him. Taking care to gently brush against Leonard as he made his way back to the sofa, Jim settled onto the other side of the cushions and started tapping on his own padd: reviewing Spock’s status updates. 

Absorbed in ship’s business, Jim didn’t notice that he’d been casting occasional sideways glances until he caught his gaze lingering again. 

_Bones_

The older man’s eyes were closed, but a frown of consideration showed he was still very much awake. The last shore leave had been, Jim mentally, calculated, three months ago, yet a few freckles still dotted the older man’s face. If they had a good couple weeks of sunshine more would appear, first on the bridge of his nose, then across his cheeks and forehead. One summer during the academy they’d spent a week in Baja: drinking, swimming, hiking, and ostensibly working on their research theses. Jim had imagined that was what Bones looked like in Georgia, before it all went to shit. Fit, tanned, and relaxed.

Moving on to that little mole above Leonard’s eyebrow, Jim traced the shadow down the side of his nose to the little white scar above his upper lip; something too small to bother with the regen. He’d noticed it before, but never asked where it came from. It wasn’t the kind of thing you asked a friend about. Jim’s thumb twitched against the padd, as if it wanted to touch.

Leonard’s eyes opened and Jim jumped before he remembered he wasn’t actually caught watching. The older man’s frown deepened and he swiped something on the back of his hand.

_Jim?_

He’d felt the startle. Mouth strangely dry, Jim wasn’t sure how to explain; wasn’t sure he wanted to explain. “Sorry. Nothing.”

Leonard’s lip curled like he had a sarcastic comment in mind, but instead of spelling out a message in reply merely gave a curt nod and went back to whatever he’d been reading. Jim turned his attention back to his work as well, heat rising in his cheeks before the details of crew evals made him forget anything else.

An hour later, reports temporarily exhausted, Jim’s stomach gave a grumble to point out that he wasn’t just hungry… he was starving. The other man hadn’t said anything, but Jim was willing to bet Leonard was ready to eat as well. 

Two club sandwiches with fries; a staple of their academy days. It must have been a slow day in the mess hall, as the order confirmation pinged back immediately and it was fewer than ten minutes before Rand appeared at the door with a tray. Giving Leonard’s knee a _sit tight_ pat, Jim retrieved the meals and contemplated the best way to manage it.

The decision was taken for him when Leonard sniffed appreciatively and held out his hands with a _gimme_ gesture. 

When Jim passed over one laden plate Leonard leaned over to inhale deeply, then balanced it on his knees and gently skimmed the fingers of his right hand over the contents. A few fries were dislodged and fell to the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice. Throwing a grateful smile in Jim’s general direction, Leonard applied himself to the meal and after a moment or two Jim did the same.

The advantage of eyesight meant that Jim finished first, setting his plate onto the coffee table when the other man still had half a sandwich left. Again, Jim caught himself watching. 

The line of Leonard’s jaw as he chewed.

The little frown of concentration as he felt his way around the plate.

The way his lips moved as he licked a stray drop of ketchup off his thumb.

When Leonard eventually set his own plate down a little bit of mayonnaise clung to his upper lip. Jim reached out without thinking to brush it gently away. Mercifully, Leonard must have been able to sense him coming because he didn’t startle like he had previously. He did flinch, suppressed to just a crinkle of his nose and sharp intake of breath at the contact. 

There was something in the tension of Leonard’s shoulders that made Jim pause after he’d moved back to sit on the other side of the sofa again. Sure enough, a message appeared on the padd as Leonard quickly swiped across the back of his hand: _Captains shouldn’t have to wipe faces._

Something twisted in Jim’s stomach, because that was about the dumbest thing the other man had tried to say to him. Picking up the padd, Jim replied, “Friends would.” Leonard got the message, but his lip curled in a manner that radiated uncertainty, so Jim pushed, “You’ve held a bucket while I vomited, Bones. On more than one occasion.”

That took much longer to be conveyed, but eventually Leonard’s expression turned rueful; whatever lingering fear or powerlessness had driven the previous comments fading with the reminder that they were _Jim and Bones_ and there wasn’t any keeping score of favors between them.

Nodding, then yawning despite the previous nap, Leonard’s pinched expression relaxed even more. Remembering M’Benga’s warning that the other man would be very tired, and still feeling sleepy himself, Jim asked, “Bed? Here or yours?”

Jim hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until the reply slowly appeared, _Pls. Here._

Encouraging Leonard up, kicking a few fries aside to sweep up later, Jim gently led him back to the bathroom. Pressing a sonic toothbrush into his friend’s hand, Jim made a show of exiting the small room. When Leonard eventually emerged, Jim pointed him towards the bed then went to take his own turn in the bathroom. Dark circles under his eyes stood out starkly in his reflection. Jim splashed cool water over his face, then said _fuck it_ and stripped off to jump into the shower. Afterwards, he quickly brushed his teeth and finger-combed his towel damp hair before pulling on a loose pair of Starfleet issue men’s sleep pants and a t-shirt. It would never do for the captain to be caught naked in a crisis. About to exit, Jim’s gaze was caught by the small bottle of aftershave left out on the counter. Vacillating for a moment, he eventually took two quick steps back to snag the bottle. Glancing between it and the closed bathroom door, he huffed out a breath and shook a drop of the liquid onto his index finger before patting it on his jawline.

Bones was already in bed; curled up as close as humanly possible to the far edge of the mattress.

Jim didn’t notice the bathroom door hissing shut behind him, caught by the picture Leonard made with the ‘fleet issued quilt pulled up to his chin. The older man’s eyes were shut, but from the lingering tension in his shoulders it was clear he was still awake. Jim… Jim wished he could do something to make it better. Instead, he moved to gently sit on the near side of the bed, carefully lifting the blanket and slipping under without touching the other man. A moment, then Leonard snuffled softly and uncurled minutely, still confined to the far side of the bed. Jim waited for a hundred breaths, then carefully rolled over. In the near darkness the line of Leonard’s back and shoulder was a silhouette of black against the grey.

Jim didn’t want to get it wrong. The panic attack of the day before too acute in his memory: of fear and thrashing and involuntary tears and corded muscles standing out sharply on Leonard’s neck. But there was also the remembered cringing away from touch being equally matched by a nose pressed to Jim’s neck and what felt like real need to press tightly against his side.

Jim fell asleep still wondering if he should touch or not.

 

**********

Leonard’s awareness shifted: from asleep to awake in one breath. It was warm; he was wearing… sweats, he remembered. Jim’s sweats. Old familiar clothing from countless impromptu movie nights following study sessions in the academy; from collapsing half-drunk to sleep it off on Jim’s couch instead of stumbling his way home; from the aftermath of medical interventions that _just weren’t enough_ and ended in signing a death certificate instead of discharge orders.

More than that: he was cocooned in the scent of Jim. Cedar, vetiver, and that something else he couldn’t name before now that was clearly just Jim himself.

A puff of breath on the back of his neck made him shiver; speak of the devil.

_Jim_

They weren’t touching, but Leonard could sense the warmth of him; the bulk of him on the other side of the bed. Bracing himself mentally, Leonard cautiously squirmed backwards until… the younger man’s body was lean and firm, muscles relaxed in sleep but still obvious. He was a shit friend, and he was certainly going to Hell for it, but Leonard couldn’t help himself: wriggling backwards _carefully, carefully_ so as not to wake him until they were touching from thigh to shoulders.

Pressing his cheek more firmly into the pillows, Leonard took a deep breath and let himself drift into sleep; trusting Jim to keep him moored.


	6. Chapter 6

He was curled around something warm; spooning, Jim’s muzzy brain helpfully provided. A happy, sleepy sigh and he buried his nose in the closely cropped hair in front of his face.

Closely cropped.

_Bones_.

Jim opened his eyes and the low light was just enough to confirm that, yes, he knew that hair. Heart suddenly pounding, he took further stock to realize that not only did he have an arm around Leonard’s waist, but the older man was loosely holding it in place. 

The one saving grace was that Bones’ breaths were giving that little _snick_ at the end of each slow inhale that meant he was deeply asleep. Impulsively, Jim splayed his hand flat against Leonard’s chest, pressing against the firm muscles usually kept hidden. When his hips gave a little hitch of their own Jim realized he had to get out of there. The room was lightening; an automated sequence to signal the coming day cycle on the ship. Carefully, carefully, he slid his arm back, gently pulling away even as he found himself itching to just curl back into place.

Unable to resist, he gently smoothed a hand over Leonard’s shoulder as he pulled the blanket up. After a moment of consideration, he tugged his own pillow down and placed it gently pressed against the other man’s back.

After a quick sonic Jim tugged on a clean uniform, sparing a glance at the bed to find Leonard had rolled over to curl around the pillow with his nose pressed into the fabric. Making sure Leonard’s padd was turned off, Jim opened a comm to the bridge and settled into his desk chair, “Spock, report.”

“Captain,” the Vulcan answered almost immediately; always prepared for such a request. “Stellar cartography have reported satisfactory progress and are on schedule. We have received word that the Delmaran negotiations have stalled despite the arrival of the Starfleet-sponsored ambassador. Lieutenant Sulu will be taking the conn as my relief, and I will proceed to science lab one where Doctor M’Benga has been working on an attempt to further isolate the Delmaran neurochemicals.”

Normally Jim might have said something about not working too hard, but the words wouldn’t quite come. Instead, he simply replied, “Thank you, Spock. Kirk out.”

Ignoring the message waiting light on his comm, Jim called up a connection to the mess hall and ordered a tray of fruit, toast and bacon; finger food for two. Sure enough, Leonard was stirring by the time the food arrived. He’d been rubbish at sleeping in as long as Jim had known him.

Activating the padd modified by Scotty, Jim trusted it to sync with Leonard’s glove as he said, “Morning.”

The resulting startle was mercifully small, then Leonard levered himself up to sit with his back against the headboard and his face turned questioningly towards the rest of the room. A few quick swipes to the back of his hand and a reply appeared on the padd, _Morning, Jim_.

It was an implied question as well, so Jim confirmed as he carried the tray over, “Yup.” Just him. “Got breakfast.” The bed dipped as he crawled onto it on his knees, placing the tray between them.

Leonard’s hands reached out immediately, cataloguing with scent and touch what was on offer, one side of his mouth turning up when he reached the bacon. Instead of reprimanding Jim for his choices in nitrites and cholesterol, Leonard picked up a piece and awkwardly popped it in his mouth, chewing with obvious relish.

Jim ate as well, occasionally pausing to nudge something to make it more “visible” to questing fingertips. When they eventually finished, Jim simply kept out of the way as Leonard climbed off the bed and carefully felt his way to the bathroom.

Lost in thought, the chime of an incoming transmission caught Jim off guard. It was doubly unexpected as Uhura was on alpha shift; she surely understood the need to keep command at arms-length while they figured out what they were dealing with. It was a ‘fleet priority channel, so Jim reluctantly settled into his desk chair and opened the connection.

“You haven’t properly checked your messages in days.”

Straightening in his seat, even though the opening signaled that it wasn’t necessarily an official conversation, Jim’s response was still defensive: “I’m off duty.”

“Jim...” Christopher Pike’s expressive face suddenly changed, movement stilling as he frowned at something over Jim’s shoulder.

Jim turned to look as well and his breath caught in his throat. It was Bones: shirtless, artlessly feeling his way across the room towards the sofa. As the older man caught his shin on the corner of the bed in a manner that must have been painful, Jim felt heat rising in his cheeks. Leonard stumbled, throat moving soundlessly in what would normally be a litany of curses, then extended his arms even further until he could follow the line of the wall around to the seating area.

Heart pounding, Jim forced himself to turn back to the comm screen.

Pike just sat back in his chair, one eyebrow raised although his tone was even, “I think you have something to tell me, son.”

So Jim told him everything. _Everything_. From how the first tendrils of worry following the missed check-in turned into full-blown fear when they realized the Delmarans were lying to them.

To the fact that Bones hadn’t recognized them when they first broke into his cell.

To holding the other man down so he could be sedated.

To taking himself off-duty during the nebula mapping.

… to M’Benga’s tentative prognosis and Spock’s efforts.

When he finished, Pike took a moment to simply _look_ at him, gaze flitting over Jim’s features before he gave a sigh that was almost a groan and said, “I won’t say anything to command, but I need you to update me again soon. They won’t wait forever” 

Jim nodded his agreement.

Embedded in the admiral’s expression was a very clear: _Be careful_.

Of precisely what, Jim wasn’t sure.

Pike closed the channel and Jim was left staring at the oscillating ‘fleet logo. 

The padd propped up on his desk vibrated and a message appeared: _You working?_

“Yeah, but done now.”

_Important?_

“Not really; just an update from command.”

Leonard seemed to think for a moment, then swiped, _I’ll be slow as shit, but want to try chess?_

Jim beamed, already moving to grab his set and toss the other man a t-shirt as he replied, “You’re always slow as shit.”

Three games of chess turned into attempting to “watch” a baseball game that had come in the latest subspace update: Scotty had included an algorithm that pulled out key moments on the commentary and turned names to abbreviations. Jim wasn’t sure how much Leonard was catching, but he seemed to be enjoying it well enough.

Moreover, he’d shifted to settle comfortably pressed against Jim’s side on the sofa, occasionally sipping from a bottle of water.

Jim knew he had a _thing_ about touch.

Enough of a thing that he kept it tightly under wraps: never staying until morning with a hookup, trying to keep back slaps from turning to one armed hugs. Bones had noticed it before, he was sure, but never said anything. Probably ascribing it to a seriously touch-starved childhood. Jim could still remember one night after their third year exams when they’d had far too much Woodford Reserve and collapsed on the couch to bitch about the interspecies ethics essay topics. Leonard’s yelp of, _Get back; you’re worse than an octopus!_ even as he didn’t try to pull away from Jim’s head settling on his shoulder, one arm slung around the older man’s neck. Eventually, Leonard’s hand had come up around Jim’s waist. They hadn’t spoken of it the next day.

As the Andorian A’s scored another run, Jim shifted to recline a little further and Leonard followed him. They were flush from thigh to shoulder, heat pooling between the fabric of Leonard’s sweats and loose t-shirt and Jim’s uniform.

Suppressing a little swell of guilt, Jim shifted further, just a few more degrees, and sure enough Leonard let him take a little more of his weight. A double play ended the inning and Leonard snorted at something in the commentary, then heaved himself up and off the sofa. Jim watched curiously until it became clear he was simply heading to the bathroom.

Alone, Jim could have straightened up, but instead he just made himself more comfortable slumped towards one arm of the sofa. A few minutes later Leonard reappeared just as the next inning was starting, wiping damp hands on his sweats. Aware a helping hand would be unwelcome, Jim just waited as the other man felt his way back to the sofa and then ran his hand along the back until he worked out where the captain was sitting.

Leonard didn’t hesitate: he collapsed into the middle of the sofa with what would probably have been a sigh, then leaned towards Jim. One arm snaked out around the back of the sofa, companionably around Jim’s shoulders; their sides pressed tightly together.

Jim almost made a joke about who was the octopus now.

But he didn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

Jim stretched and rolled his ankles, pleasantly full of dinner and lounging on the sofa again. They’d watched a second baseball game, done some stretching (yoga, in truth, but Bones seemed to doggedly refer to it as stretching for some reason), eaten lunch, Leonard took a nap while Jim reviewed crew reports, played more chess, tried watching football (too confusing), eaten dinner, and now Jim was watching a film while Leonard did something with his padd. 

Jim suspected it involved his medical records and the science team’s research; every so often a frown would cross those expressive features and the doctor would replay a recently transmitted sentence or pause to take a note. 

And Jim did have a front row for the expressive features: Leonard was sprawled on his back on the sofa, head on a pillow against Jim’s thigh. At some point Jim’s fingers had strayed into Leonard’s hair, alternating between gently stroking and scratching his scalp. He’d initially done it without thinking; absorbed in the film. When he’d glanced down to find the older man softly smiling something had skittered in his chest. A momentary pause was enough for the smile to start to falter, so he picked up the motion again.

An hour later and the only motion from Leonard had been the occasional shift to guide Jim’s hand towards spots that were neglected. Action on screen made Jim chuckle, because there was no way the heroine was going to fall for that clumsy a come-on, and one corner of Leonard’s mouth quirked up at the motion; he must have felt it even through the pillow. The older man’s eyes were closed, the sweep of long lashes almost delicate against his lightly freckled cheeks. Jim gave a firmer scritch to see if he could turn the quirked lip into a full-blown smile. It worked, and earned him a little huff of relaxed breath as well. 

A rush of realization came out of nowhere: I’m going to Hell. Jim froze, fingers still tangled in Leonard’s hair. One dark eyebrow rose and he quickly resumed the motion even as his stomach turned. Jim was going to Hell, because he was enjoying it: this tactile version of Bones. Leonard sighed again, and shifted to press Jim’s fingers more firmly against a spot behind his left ear. Jim’s fingers didn’t stop, even as his brain seemed to skitter and slow. “Shit…” It was _beyond_ wrong, to take advantage of Bones like this. 

Leonard suddenly shifted, moving to sit up and swiping something for Jim that the padd translated to, _Bedtime. I call first shower_. With that, he stood and stretched, glancing back in the general direction of Jim to offer a warm smile before quickly heading into the bathroom.

Shit. Jim leaned forwards and ran his hands over his face, then looked at the closed bathroom door accusingly. _Shit_. Bedtime? If Jim couldn’t keep himself from overstepping on the sofa, how the fuck was he supposed to deal with bedtime?

It didn’t get any better when Leonard wandered out of the bathroom wearing just a pair of sleep pants slung low on his hips. Jim wasn’t sure when the guilty pleasure of watching had turned into such a strong desire to touch, but he felt a need to sit on his hands until the other man was safely in bed with the quilt obscuring most of that naked skin.

That done, Jim fairly leapt across the room to lock himself in the bathroom. He jerked off in the shower. Furtively, with a tinge of guilt he hadn’t felt since he was about sixteen and Rachel Anderson had suffered a wardrobe malfunction in gym class worthy of teenage fantasies. Resignedly, because for some fucked up reason it felt like admitting weakness; never mind that he was a healthy man and a little solo shower action was a pretty regular occurrence at the best of times.

He peeked around the door to find Bones in bed with his padd propped on the nightstand, clearly intending to go to sleep. Steeling himself, Jim crossed the room and flicked back the covers on the empty side of the bed, climbing in and restricting himself to a two-foot wide strip closest to the edge. Leonard shifted, worming around for a moment before settling on his stomach. Jim kept his distance.

It was a strategy that worked until 0327 when Jim gave up and turned on the light to check the time. He flopped back with a muttered, “For fuck’s sake,” because they’d been awake for what felt like at least an hour, maybe two; ever since Leonard had woken with a jerk and gasp that signalled _nightmare_ , then appeared to go back to sleep, only to shift restlessly every ten minutes. Jim had played possum throughout, but glancing at how the other man was curled on his side with his back to the rest of the bed made his resolve weaken. They needed sleep; Hell, Bones was still recovering. M’Benga had been clear: Jim was in charge so long as his patient actually rested and ate.

Remembering the previous morning, Jim sternly willed himself to _behave_ , then scootched forward and slung an arm around Leonard’s waist. The expected startle never came. Instead, Leonard stilled, then hitched himself backwards until they were flush from thigh to chest. Jim was sure his pounding heart was going to give something, he wasn’t quite sure what, away, but Leonard just _melted_ into the embrace with a rumbly sigh.

It felt so good Jim fleetingly wondered why he hadn’t tried this years ago. A little _snick_ on the end of a deep inhale told him Bones was already out. Jim willed himself to do the same.

 

**********

Jim woke up by degrees: cocooned in a nest of blankets and _Bones_. It was warm and comfortable and even half-asleep it was _safe_. Unthinking, he tightened the arm slung around Leonard’s waist and just about had a heart attack when from where their lower legs were tangled together came the sensation of a foot moving to press more firmly against his own. Immediately wide awake, heart pounding, because _holyfuckingshit_ Bones was awake and tolerating being treated like a motherfucking teddy bear, which was so wrong, but felt so... 

A sharp elbow caught Jim in the shoulder as Leonard wormed his way out of the embrace. 

“Lights sixty percent,” Jim’s voice was breathless; the light snapped on and he found the other man fumbling for something on the night table.

The fumbling was explained when Leonard spun around with his padd, thrusting it onto the bed between them and swiping quickly over the back of his hand.

_What’s wrong?_

When the words appeared Jim’s tongue froze to the roof of his mouth and he couldn’t say anything if he wanted to. What was wrong? What was _right_ in this whole fucked up situation?

Leonard waited a moment, then sharply rapped the screen with his knuckle for emphasis.

Jim wilted, back bowing as he sat and finally muttered, “I’m being an asshole.”

Leonard’s head tilted to one side and he pursed his lips; after a moment, he reached out until his hand lightly slapped against Jim’s arm. Having located the other man, he gently ran his hand over Jim’s shoulders; testing the posture and tension in the muscular frame. 

Jim just held still during the examination, knowing there was nothing to be gained by protesting. It was only fair, he figured, Leonard knew how to read his posture by sight well enough; why deny him the same by touch? 

Eventually, Leonard pulled back and seemed to be considering something; even in the low light Jim could see the tug as he chewed on the inside of his lower lip. When he seemed to come to a decision and start swiping, Jim felt like an anaphylactic reaction was constricting his throat— hot and deadly. Despite himself, he leaned forwards to watch the words appear on the padd.

_You’re not taking advantage of me. You’re taking advantage of the situation._

A pause, and then: _Just like I am_.

Jim’s heart skittered, then pounded harder than ever. “Bones?”

Leonard kept his chin up and gaze directed roughly towards Jim as he replied, _Touch helps, Jim. Your touch. I feel safe._

Safe. He made him feel safe. Jim suddenly felt like he’d remembered how to breathe. “Oh, Bones.” It took a moment to translate and when it did Leonard looked so unsure Jim winced, forgetting that it was a pretty ambiguous statement without intonation. Trying not to startle, he slid a hand over the blanket until it brushed Leonard’s knee, then ran it up an arm until he cupped one broad shoulder.

Leonard gave a full-body shudder that might have masked a sob, head bowed. They sat frozen for a long moment, then with the smallest of movements words slowly appeared on the padd, as if Leonard was hesitating as he spelled. _I’m fucking terrified all the time, Jim. Except when I’m with you._

Scooping Leonard into his arms, Jim collapsed backwards with an _oof_ , closer to ninety kilos of doctor clasped to his chest. It was hard to breathe at first, then the older man moved to simultaneously shift off the bulk of his weight while also pressing more closely where their collarbones touched, face against the side of Jim’s neck. 

Unsure that Leonard would be attending to his glove well enough to comprehend speech, Jim settled for communicating by running his hands soothingly over the other man’s back. After a few minutes he realized that the side of his neck was damp and couldn’t help but mutter, “Oh, Bones. Shhhh. It’ll be okay.” Leonard’s shoulders shuddered and the dampness increased, but Jim just kept up the steady stroking.

Eventually, the shuddering stopped and Leonard moved, only pulling back far enough to fumble for his abandoned padd and then press it into Jim’s hand. _If I don’t get better soon they’ll send me to Earth Jim and I can’t I don’t know how_. It was Leonard’s hand sending the message, but Jim pressed a finger against his friend’s lips and the rambling panic stopped. 

Jim wanted to promise so much more, but he couldn’t, “I haven’t provided Starfleet with a full report, but Pike knows, and he’ll help. We’ve got time to figure this out. I won’t let them take you, Bones.”

_You can’t stop them. I’m useless here_.

“You’re not! Hell, you can learn Morse code for speed and we can put a vocal synth on the padd.”

_Jim, I’m a doctor and a surgeon. I can’t effectively diagnose people, much less operate without my sight…_

“You’re also one of the best virologists in the ‘fleet and pioneered neural grafting. You might not be able to be CMO, but don’t tell me you can’t lead a research team from here.”

Leonard paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment before obstinance took over, _Spots on the Enterprise are at a premium. You’ll have to bring in another doctor; I can’t justify keeping quarters._

“So stay with me.” The words were out before Jim even considered the implications.

Leonard stilled.

Jim couldn’t remember wishing he could see Bones’ face more than in that moment.

_Jim?_

“If they try to make you leave the Enterprise, you could stay with me. In my quarters.”

_In what capacity?_.

It was a fair question, but one Jim didn’t feel well equipped to answer. Sensing the hesitation, Leonard started to pull away only for Jim’s arms to reflexively grip more tightly as he blurted out, “As my partner. I could put the forms in to make it an official partnership and request a joint posting.”

_Jesus, Jim_. 

The response was so _Bones_ that Jim couldn’t help but bark out a surprised laugh. “Is that a yes?”

_I don’t know that they’d believe…_

Jim cut him off, chuckling, “Bones, if you’d heard half the gossip about us at command— it would surprise them to hear I haven’t been fucking you for years.”

_Oh my God._ Even in text the accusatory tone was plain, _No wonder I can’t get a date when we’re in San Francisco._

Jim just laughed, trusting the jerking of his muscles would convey his mirth. It seemed to, as Leonard started shaking as well, gasping as he did so. 

Eventually, they both sobered and Jim asserted, “I promise, Bones, no matter what happens I won’t let them make you go anywhere alone.”

Lingering tension seemed to bleed from Leonard’s frame and he settled more comfortably against the younger man’s chest. _Thanks, Jim_.

Where it left them Jim wasn’t exactly sure, but at least it seemed he had a license to touch.


	8. Chapter 8

Leonard McCoy knew he had a _thing_ about touch.

He put it down to being a doctor: something almost primal in being able to lay hands on another person to diagnose and _heal_. He’d learned it from his father— how to take a pulse with his fingertips and ballpark a temperature with the back of his hand and check dehydration with a gentle pinch. Somehow it had escalated into an almost visceral want to touch. Jocelyn had been accommodating— all pillowy softness and long fingers that would rub over his bare shoulders after a long day. It was the one thing he missed from the shreds of his marriage.

When it had turned into _wanting to be touched by Jim_ he wasn’t sure. 

It just felt _right._

 

**********

Leonard fingers itched to throw something, to smash and break things, but the only thing within reach was his padd and if he broke that he’d be damn-near helpless. He settled for wrenching a cushion free from the sofa and hurling it towards the sleeping area of Jim’s quarters, then doing the same with another. A third would have followed, but a strong hand caught his wrist and Leonard lashed out. The blow was deflected and then an arm wrapped around his waist and Leonard found himself pulled against a firm chest— Jim’s chest. The fight drained out of him and the younger man seemed to sense it immediately, grip releasing in favor of hands rubbing over his back until Jim eventually asked, “Okay?”

Leonard pressed his nose into the crook of Jim’s neck, inhaling before replying, _It stopped breaking down._

Jim’s hands didn’t pause in their up and down stroking as he asked, “What?”

_The Delmaran neurochemical. It’s not going to clear itself; there’s no conceivable purpose for what they did to me, beyond an experiment or torture._

Through it all, Jim just hugged him more tightly.

Thinking back over the update from M’Benga, Leonard tried to keep his emotions reined in as he explained, _Unless we can find a way to fix this, I’m stuck_.

“So we’ll fix it.”

_Jim_.

“Come on,” one last stroke up and down, then Jim shifted to indicate that they should stand. “Let’s go get something to eat, then we can check in with Spock about his research.”

_I’m a mess_.

“You’re fine.” Bones’ face was, in truth, a little blotchy, and he’d also fought off Jim’s attempts to style his hair that morning. Nothing was to be gained by pointing that out, though, so Jim just asserted, “We can’t stay shut inside my quarters all day.”

_I can_.

“I won’t let you.” He punctuated the statement with a squeeze to Leonard’s shoulder to let him know it was a lighthearted comment.

The last thing Leonard felt like braving was the mess hall, but he knew Jim was right. Staying hidden away forever wasn’t an option; not if he wanted to stay with Jim. Nodding his acquiescence, he let himself be guided into the corridor.

**********

Jim noticed the whispers that followed them; the sidelong glances when he was helping Bones with a meal in the mess hall or to navigate the corridors. At first he’d had to bite back an urge to scowl at them— expressing disappointment at their reaction to their CMO’s disability. Slowly, he’d come around to the realization that his crew wasn’t gawking at Bones, rather, they were gawking at Jim himself. And not just gawking, but regarding him approvingly, even indulgently. He didn’t mention it to Bones as they ate— sandwiches, with a mug of soup— but filed it away for consideration later.

The day didn’t improve when they got to the science labs. Leonard may have missed the significant glance exchanged by Spock and M’Benga, but Jim sure as hell didn’t. Sure enough, there was an update, but so far as Jim was concerned it didn’t count as good news. Bones, however, visibly perked up at their report, reviewing the data with a fervor that gave Jim a sinking feeling.

Sure enough, the words that eventually appeared on the padd were, _“How soon can we try?”_

Before Spock and M’Benga could reply, Jim took Leonard by the elbow and interjected, “Will you excuse us for a moment please?” They didn’t need to be asked twice and quickly made themselves scarce. “Bones,” Jim gave the older man’s elbow a little squeeze, “did you miss the part where it said this method of breaking down the compound could result in serious brain damage?”

The determined set of Leonard’s jaw was not encouraging, and neither was his response, _Implants aren’t going to work; sensory substitution is not an option either— there isn’t a good way to deliver the signal. Too much tissue is affected to neutralize it and replace with grafts. This is my option. The pharmacokinetics aren’t going to change— those assholes engineered one hell of a neurotoxin._

“Can we at least give them a little more time?” Jim tried running his hands up and down Leonard’s upper arms as he implored. “Sleep on it, maybe?” Sensing residual resistance, Jim steeled himself and added, “You’re not in a great state of mind to make this decision right now. I don’t want to order a psych consult…” _but I will_ was clearly implied.

Leonard seemed to slump a little under Jim’s touch, bowing towards the younger man for a moment before he replied, _You’re right._

“Don’t worry,” Jim impulsively stilled his stroking in favor of a quick hug, “I won’t let it go to my head.” Leonard chuffed a breath that Jim had come to realize indicated a chuckle. “Come on— it’s been a long day. Let’s put the data aside for a while and play some chess before bed, sound okay?”

_OK_.

They only managed one game, even though it was barely after dinnertime. Leonard was tense and distracted, and when he begged off a second game Jim pretended he didn’t know the other man was going to review the medical files in bed instead of sleeping. Jim slouched on the couch for a while, reviewing ship’s updates without really processing them. When he went to check on the other man an hour later he was met by soft snores. Bones still tired easily; Jim wondered if he should mention it to M’Benga. It was too early for Jim to sleep so he wandered back into his desk area and found a message waiting light blinking on his padd. _Christopher Pike_. It wasn’t too late in San Francisco— 

Smoothing wrinkles out of his uniform shirt, Jim opened a channel and sent a connection request. He didn’t have to wait long: fewer than fifteen seconds later Christopher Pike appeared on the screen, still in uniform but without his jacket and clearly at home.

“Jim!” Little wrinkles crinkled the skin at the corners of the admiral’s eyes as he smiled. “How are you holding up?”

“Alright.” Jim settled more comfortably in his chair. “The mapping is going well enough— Stellar Cartography can pretty much run themselves so Spock has been working with Doctor M’Benga. Scotty is doing some upgrades to the warp systems in the downtime and I think Chekov is collaborating on some new transporter software that has the engineers at HQ excited.”

“How’s McCoy?”

Jim deflated, casting a glance towards the sleeping area before he replied, “Frustrated. Afraid he won’t get better; that he’ll be recalled to SF.”

“What’s the latest on that?”

“You can tell me about the likelihood of being recalled,” Jim was stalling, and from Pike’s expression the older man knew it. Shifting in his seat, he admitted, “It’s not great. The neurotoxin has stopped breaking down on its own and he’s also not a candidate for neural grafting or implants or anything like that. Spock and M’Benga have developed a compound that could be used to try and clear it, but it’s likely to trigger an inflammatory response. The side effects,” Jim had to swallow, “could cause severe brain damage. It might even be fatal.”

“How’s he feeling about that?”

“He wants to try it!” Disbelief bordering on anger made the words explode out of Jim. “They just came up with the protocol this afternoon and he was immediately ready to do it!”

Taking in the particular confluence of emotion, Pike sighed; he was never one to shy away from getting involved, even when it was unclear if his meddling would be welcome. “Son, as your superior officer I can’t tell you what to do here, but as your friend there’s something I can only say once.” When Jim cocked his head, curious despite himself, Pike firmly ordered, “Get your head out of your ass.” The expression of the kid’s face would have been hilarious, but for the fear that he’d misjudged the situation. Soldiering on, Pike continued, “Look I could be completely wrong about this, and if so I apologize, but the two of you have been buzzing around each other like a binary star system since your first day at the academy. If you care about him like I think you do, I’m pretty sure it’s mutual given what I saw during the whole Nero shitstorm.” 

The anger seemed to melt away, leaving Jim feeling oddly hollow as he admitted, “You’re not wrong.”

“So what’s got you so damn _scared_?” Jim visibly flinched at the question and Pike pressed more softly, “I know you’ve never made a move on that; no matter what folks at HQ have assumed.”

A long moment passed as Jim’s gaze flitted down to the desk then back up to the screen; eventually he nodded.

“Look, if he can’t get better and you want to stay on the Enterprise you know I’ll go to bat for you, but it wouldn’t be a sure thing _at all_ and you have to ask yourself if someone like McCoy could be happy feeling like a kept man— because that’s how the brass would see it. I know with time and technology he’d be able to make a meaningful contribution, but he certainly won’t be a CMO.” An almost pained expressions crossed the younger man’s face, as if Jim wanted to say something but the specific words wouldn’t come. Gently, Pike asked, “Have you tried talking to him?”

Jim licked his lips, gaze skittering from the monitor to something Pike couldn’t see off screen. It was enough of an answer in itself.

“Jim…” Pike waited until he had the younger man’s full attention; he tried to keep it from sounding like an order, but a tone of command couldn’t be suppressed entirely as he said, “Talk to him.”

Eventually, Jim huffed a breath. “You’re right—” pausing a moment to scrub a hand through his hair, “as usual.” Pike couldn’t quite stop his face giving a little twitch of pleasure at that. Sensing the need to commit, Jim asserted, “I’ll talk to him.”

“When?”

“Tonight.” Remembering Leonard had gone to bed, Jim amended, “Tomorrow. First thing— I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I appreciate it.” And he did.

The conversation wrapped up quickly after that— Pike sharing some ‘fleet gossip from HQ before leveling the young captain with an assessing look and telling him to get some rest.

Jim stood at the foot of the bed already clad in an old t-shirt and flannel bottoms from before the academy, the fabric well-worn and soft. The lights were at fifteen percent and in the gentle glow Leonard looked younger than his years. Handsome. Jim worried his lower lip between his teeth, mentally amending, very handsome. There was a little wrinkle of stress cutting across Leonard’s forehead, even in sleep, and Jim ached to smooth it away.

No matter how carefully Jim crawled into bed it wasn’t enough to keep Leonard’s breath from hitching as the older man abruptly woke up. A foot slid backwards to briefly bump into Jim’s shin, as if checking what woke him, but he didn’t otherwise move. 

When it became clear Leonard was still awake, Jim softly said, “I’m sorry.”

“ _Jim?_ ” The vocal synth was a surprise, but not unexpected. It wasn’t a perfect match for Leonard’s voice, but obviously modeled after recordings of him speaking.

“I shouldn’t have threatened to pull rank.” Jim could sense that the other man was waiting for more, so steeled himself and admitted, “I don’t want to risk losing you. It scared me and I overreacted.”

“ _I have to try or you may as well lose me_.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Jim reached out and brushed Leonard’s shoulder, an unspoken, _come here_ implied in the touch. The older man didn’t hesitate, sliding across the mattress until he encountered the warm planes of Jim’s body. With Pike’s words ringing in his ears, Jim swallowed his fear and took a leap: “I love you, Bones.” 

It was Leonard who leaned forwards, slightly off-target such that his lips first met the corner of Jim’s mouth before he was able to correct. It was gentle and tender; a press of lips against lips. 

Suppressing a moan, Jim licked his way into Leonard’s mouth, deepening the kiss as he brought his arms up around the other man. They kissed, lazily, for a while before Jim pulled back to catch his breath and offered, “We can talk to Spock and M’Benga again tomorrow.”

Leonard nodded, then slid a knee in between Jim’s legs and tucked his head under the younger man’s chin. 

It was, Jim reflected, a hell of a way to fall asleep; Bones in his arms.

As the older man’s breathing softened and evened out, Jim pressed a kiss into dark brown hair and muttered a word of hope that everything would be okay.


	9. Chapter 9

“Captain.”

Jim looked up from where he’d been staring into the middle distance of the medical bay, surprised to find that his first officer had approached without him hearing. “Spock,” the name came out with a rasp and he had to clear his throat, “What’s up?”

Moving to stand at something in the ballpark of parade rest, the Vulcan politely inquired, “How is Doctor McCoy?”

Never mind that Spock could probably make more sense of the medical displays than Jim himself. “Still out cold,” Jim reached out and gently traced his index finger over the back of one lax hand.

“Perhaps a meal in the mess hall would be advisable?”

“I’m hardly fit for public, Spock, no.” Jim was aware he hadn’t been back to his quarters and hadn’t showered or shaved in almost two days. Once Leonard had decided to try the treatment, things had moved quickly. Before Jim knew it he’d been stealing one last kiss before the older man was sedated for the infusion. 

“I think the crew would understand. And I believe it would be… reassuring, for them to see you. Despite his sometimes prickly manner the crew is very fond of Doctor McCoy.”

“Why Spock,” Jim somehow mustered a grin, “I might just have to tell Bones you almost managed to pay him a compliment.”

“I will be capable of paying him many compliments,” Spock took in the too-still form on the biobed, “once he awakens.”

Something inside Jim stirred in relief that the Vulcan had framed it as _when_ rather than _if_ Bones would wake up.

It must have shown on his face, because Spock continued, “Jim, Doctor M’Benga was clear that the induced coma would need to be maintained for at least three days. Leonard’s continued unconsciousness is to be expected.”

Nodding his understanding, and acquiescence, Jim stiffly rose to his feet, wincing at the ache in his lower back.

“Do you require an analgesic?”

“No, Spock. I’m fine.” With one last reluctant stroke to Leonard’s hand, Jim let himself be led to the mess hall. The thought of food wasn’t very appealing, but he selected an apple, sandwich and a cup of coffee. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at the choice of beverage, but refrained from comment. As Jim ate he scanned the room with his peripheral vision; a habit he’d perfected in middle school. It was obvious he was the subject of conversation, despite how the crew were taking care not to stare. Perhaps Spock had been right.

To his credit, Spock waited until Jim had nearly finished his lunch before reporting, “The Delmaran negotiations have collapsed.”

Jim observed that his hand was shaking where it curled around his mug. Tightening his grip to mask the tremor, he replied, “Did they say why?”

“The Starfleet ambassador ultimately concluded that the Delmaran people are xenophobic to a degree that is incompatible with being able to engage in a treaty with the Federation.”

Xenophobia. “I should have seen that.”

“I do not see how.”

“It was going _well_ , Spock, I just thought I could deliver an outcome that would please everyone. I was blind to the signs that—”

“It is the formal opinion of the ambassador that Starfleet completely misread the situation, and the Enterprise should never have been dispatched to meet with the Delmaran government. The negotiations were a front for the Delmarans to get a sense of the Federation’s position, our strength and objectives, they never intended to sign a treaty.” 

“Do they—” Jim licked his lips. “Do they know why Bones was taken?”

For a Vulcan, Spock looked downright perturbed as he replied, “Doctor McCoy’s imprisonment was to aid a biological weapons program. The Delmarans distrust of alien species is so deep they have developed a portfolio of advanced chemical weapons— ranging from compounds that will simply incapacitate to those that will kill in seconds, all carefully tailored to the specific physiology of other species. It is an—” he stumbled over the human phrasing, “ace up their sleeve.”

Jim felt worn out and hollow, somehow stretched thin and scoured out. He turned the half-eaten apple around in his hands before dropping it onto the tray with a grimace of distaste.

“Jim?”

Shoving the tray away from himself, the captain curtly replied, “Thank you for the update, and lunch, I need to get back to the med bay now.”

“Jim—”

“That’s all, Spock.” _Not now. Not here_. The hissed response and tense posture was enough for the Vulcan to drop it.

 

**********

“Bones.” In the dimmed light of the medical bay at 0300, Jim’s whisper was too soft to garner any attention. Tracing a finger over the scattering of freckles on Leonard’s cheekbone, he continued, “M’Benga said they backed off your sedation this afternoon— that you could start to come around any time, but we’re still not sure how the treatment worked. The swelling was pretty bad, but they gave you a lot of drugs to try to keep it under control.” 

It was three days since the infusion— three days and eighteen hours, in fact. Jim could time it to the minute, if needed, but they still didn’t know if the treatment had been a success beyond the fact that Leonard was still alive.

“Come on, Bones.” Jim leaned down and brushed his lips over the other man’s forehead. “Wake up.”

 

**********

“Captain?”

Jim startled awake at the soft word and feel of a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just me,” M’Benga smiled and pressed a cup of coffee into the captain’s hands, waiting for him to take two sips before adding, “I think he’s starting to wake up.”

The hot drink almost slopped in Jim’s hurry to set it down as he lurched out of his chair towards the biobed. Leonard looked as still as before, but for the faintest furrow of a frown creasing his forehead.

“His vitals look good, Captain, he’s responding to a pinch and the swelling in his brain is down enough I’m comfortable stopping the sedation.” Wishing he could be more confident, the doctor only offered, “We’ll know more once he’s conscious.”

Jim nodding, curling a hand around Leonard’s lax one and rubbing his thumb against the callus where the doctor held his stylus, then the small scar on his index finger. A childhood accident, Jim knew; he’d known the story long before he was allowed to touch. “Bones?” At M’Benga’s encouraging look, Jim tried again, more firmly, “Bones?”

The little furrow deepened, and for the first time in almost five days Jim felt Leonard’s hand start to curl around his own in return.

“That’s it, Bones. Come on.” M’Benga dimmed the lighting just as Leonard’s eyelashes fluttered and the older man shifted his head on the pillow. “Open your eyes.” Jim held his breath as Leonard’s eyelids cracked open to reveal a glimpse of hazel. Three slow blinks, and then the older man’s gaze met his own and stayed fixed in place. _Say my name,_ Jim implored, wordlessly.

Hoarse from disuse, Leonard only managed to whisper, “Jim.”

It was enough to bring unexpected tears of relief to Jim’s eyes and he wetly gasped, “Bones.”

Leonard’s eyes slipped closed, then opened again as Jim brought their joined hands up to his mouth and kissed the older man’s knuckles.

A hand on Jim’s shoulder was followed by M’Benga’s gentle voice: “I need five minutes to do an assessment. Can you please wait in his office?”

Jim sat in the visitor’s chair, because it never felt right to take the one behind the desk even when waiting for Bones. Five minutes had never passed so slowly. Jim picked at a spot of something on the cuff of his uniform. Soup, maybe? Chapel had brought him a cup of soup at one point— the days had blurred together into _waiting_.

“Captain?” Jim was on his feet so fast the chair nearly tipped over. Holding up a steadying hand, the doctor quickly reported, “It’s looking good, sir, despite the fact he’s suffered a systemic insult and the inflammatory response extended beyond the originally affected tissue. He has pins and needles in his extremities, his eyes are touch photophobic, and there’s some trouble with muscle control and coordination, but with a month of intense neural rehab he should make a full recovery. His hearing is almost at a hundred percent and his speech is perhaps a little slow, but clear.”

It was almost more than Jim had let himself hope for; he had to reach back and grip the top of the chair to keep himself grounded. 

“He’s resting now. If you go get a solid six to eight hours of sleep in your quarters, and everything looks good on the scans, I’ll let you take him home tomorrow to recover.”

After days of kipping on a spare biobed or grabbing snatches of sleep in a visitor’s chair the thought of his own bed sounded like heaven; Jim wanted to resist, but knew M’Benga wouldn’t hesitate to make it an order if he felt he had to. 

Reluctantly nodding, Jim bargained, “Ten minutes?”

“Five,” M’Benga smiled, “Ten and you’re liable to fall asleep on your feet right here.”

Unwilling to admit his head was swimming with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, Jim just made his way back into the med bay to press a kiss to Leonard’s forehead.

 

**********

 

Moving slowly, so slowly, but resolutely under his own power, Leonard followed Jim through the corridors to the captain’s quarters.

“Home sweet home.” Warmth blossomed in Jim’s chest at Leonard’s announcement. The doctor trailed a hand along the back of the couch before he turned and asked, “Can I take a shower?”

“Go ahead.” Jim realized he probably needed one too— he’d returned to the med bay as soon as he woke up to find the agreed time had elapsed. “When you’re done, you want bed or couch?” M’Benga’s instructions had been clear: rest, remote monitoring bracelet, and check-ins three times a day.

Surprisingly, Leonard didn’t protest. “Couch,” he shrugged, “I may not stay awake, but we can at least put a film on or something.”

“You got it.” While Leonard showered, Jim found a change of clothes for both of them and set out pillows and a blanket on the couch. After a moment, he added a plate with some fresh fruit and glasses of water, then cued up a film that they’d both been interested in seeing. The shower cut off and Leonard wandered out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, immediately spotting the clothing that had been set out. Carefully skirting the bed to give the older man space, Jim darted towards the bathroom with his eyes politely averted. 

“Jim,” Leonard waited until the younger man looked up, then winked (and that fine movement in itself was a victory), “Put on your aftershave.”

“Aftershave?”

“I could do with some nuzzling. Think I got used to it.”

Jim barked out a laugh, unspoken fear that things would be different now evaporating. He showered quickly, and there was indeed nuzzling. Slightly damp, tangled on a couch strictly too small for their two frames, they curled around each other and exchanged lazy kisses until Leonard yawned so widely his jaw cracked.

Drawl slightly slurred with exhaustion, Leonard said, “I warned you I might not stay awake.”

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing your voice.” Jim pressed a kiss to Leonard’s forehead. “I don’t mind. You want to move to the bed or stay here?”

“I’m pretty comfortable right here, unless you’re going numb.”

“Nope,” Jim shifted slightly, bringing a hand up to card fingers through the other man’s hair.

“Mmmm,” Leonard stretched and then curled into Jim’s chest. “Maybe you should put that form in anyway. Just in case they ever get any ideas about splitting us up.”

Suddenly more awake, Jim jerked up so he could see Leonard’s face more clearly. “Are you serious?”

“Guess I realized I can’t imagine being without you.” Leonard smiled, crookedly. “No sure how it took me so long.” Shifting so he could tilt up his chin to meet Jim’s eyes, he pressed a palm to the younger man’s chest. “I needed you, and you were there for me.” The words he hadn’t been able to articulate before came easily to Leonard’s lips. “I love you.”

Warmth blossomed in Jim’s chest, starting where Leonard’s hand was over his heart. “Love you too, Bones.” Cheeks pinking, the older man mumbled something pleased but indistinct and tucked his head back under Jim’s chin. Freeing a hand trapped against the cushions, Jim started a gentle stroking over Leonard’s shoulder as he murmured, “Sleep well, Bones.” The sleepy, growly, sigh in return only made him feel more content.

Jim couldn’t imagine being without Bones either. Tightening his arms, he pressed a kiss into the other man’s hair. Now that he could touch, he wasn’t about to let go.


End file.
